Moscow, Russia. Five thousand miles away from Gotham, and an entire world away for some. Zofia was one of those people. Born in the very heart of upstate Gotham, but relocated to Moscow some nine years ago. The sudden, and tragic death of her parents, and eldest brother had left the family vulnerable, and the youngest of the Zsasz clan had been dispatched to live with their grandmother.

The first few years had been an emotional ride: barely eight years old, newly orphaned, and living in an entirely new country? Zofia had only visited her grandmother at Hanukkah, and to suddenly be living here? It was..strange. But, almost ten years later, that sobbing, scared little girl had grown into a seventeen, nearly eighteen year old.

It was a week until her birthday, and Zofia had a lot of plans in motion. She was due to begin higher schooling, but she was about to make an even bigger life change along with it. Her belongings had mostly been shipped, and the only things remaining were a case of clothes, books, and a variety of other things. Perfect for a long haul flight back to her home city. Despite what had happened there, Gotham was like a magnet- once born there, it pulled you back. Plus, she would be able to visit her parents, and eldest brother. Not to mention her second eldest brother.

Three days until her birthday, and eight until she moved back to Gotham. Zofia was curled up on the window seat in her bedroom, knees up to her chest, iPad on the backs of her thighs. Absent-mindedly scrolling through her social media, attempting to pass the time until dinner, when a light knocking on the door caught her attention.

"Miss Zsasz?"

"Yeah?"

She was greeted by the face of her bubbie's staff- a rather thin faced, older blonde male. Zofia gestured for him to come in, brows lifting slightly as he set what he was carrying on her desk.

"This just came for you. Your grandmother wants you down in an hour."

"That's perfect, thankyou."

An hour to investigate this surprise, and to change into something more appropriate for dinner. With little to do but pack all day, Zofia had remained in her pyjamas: she may be at home, but, her grandmother would most likely disapprove. Setting her iPad aside, and crossing the room in three long strides. A large, black box lay on her oak desk, decoratively wrapped with a luxurious silver ribbon: she knew who it was from before she'd even opened it.

Picking up the box, and flopping to sit on the end of her bed. Slender fingers untied the ribbon, lifting the top of the box off. A soft looking, brown jacket, folded in half, and resting against black tissue paper. A light fuzz around the collar, and an envelope with her name scrawled on resting atop it. She opened it, dark gaze flickering over the message inside the card.

Happy early birthday, kid. See you in Gotham soon?

Eight days. Zofia hadn't seen her second brother since Hanukkah the previous year- she was looking forward to doing so. She couldn't wait.


Three days later, Zofia woke up early, ready for her eighteenth birthday. Her brother had promised her a party when she got to America, but for today, it was dinner with her grandmother, gifts, and honestly, not much else. Zofia's birthdays were infrequently celebrated: she remembered a time when she would wake up to her mother and father, pancakes, and whatever fun activity they had planned for the day. It had been almost ten years since her last birthday with them, and she still felt something of a pang, glancing at the framed photo at the side of her bed.

A smiling blonde woman, a dark haired man, and a beaming little girl, wearing a crown of flowers at the park in upstate Gotham. That had been a fun day. Zofia reached to touch the picture for a moment, before climbing out of bed, hands ruffling over her hair. She would miss her room.

A large bed, high ceilings, ornate marble carvings in the corners between the wall and the ceilings. Antique silver mirror over her oak desk, and double doors leading off to her bathroom, and her closet. There was little customization, though: lots of schoolbooks lay on the desk, ranging from science, to mathematics, and there were a few family photographs dotted around the place. Had it been more homely before she had packed to go back to America? Yes, a little.

Wandering sleepily to the closet, selecting jeans, and a red shirt for the day. Picking up a brush once she was dressed, and ambling over to the mirror, enabling herself to make sure her hair was at least presentable. Zofia was rather willowy: not short, but not quite tall. Her limbs were long, and her shoulders rather angular: gangly, in her opinion.

A heart shaped, pale face, with sharp cheekbones, and wide, dark eyes, framed by near hip length, raven black hair. It only served to make her look paler, in her opinion: Zofia wasn't particularly happy with her reflection, but, it rarely mattered. Her mind was usually fixed on school, and as of now, it was focusing on the day ahead, and her upcoming move to Gotham.

A soft, melodic tune stole her attention away, though. Putting her brush down, and heading back to her room, diving onto her bed in order to grab her phone from the opposite bedside cabinet. Facetime.

"Hey, kiddo. Happy birthday."

"Victor? Isn't it midnight there?"

Her second eldest, and only surviving brother, Victor. Zofia had been eight when their family fell apart, her brother barely twenty one. Zofia wasn't too sure what had happened to him after that: Bubbie said he had been gambling back then, and that he had lost his work, and share of the family money. However, Victor had refused to take anything from his grandmother, or Zofia. Not that their grandmother hadn't tried- Bubbie very much doted on her grandchildren, and was planning on following Zofia across the sea one day.

Zofia moved to sit up, resting a chin on her hand as she watched her phone screen. From the look of it, Victor was out: busy city lights were flashing behind him, despite the fact it was the middle of the night over there.

"Oh come now, Zo, midnight is barely anything. How's old age? Should I sign you up to a pension scheme?"

"Victor-"

He was laughing, and so was she. Running a hand over her face, moving to stand up, and head out of the room, and down the sweeping stairs. She could hear her grandmother's chef in the kitchen, and the record player in the drawing room: closing the door gently, and heading on into the lounge.

"Want me to get you from the airport when you get here? It's a biiiig, crazy city, Zo."

"If you call me that again, I don't think I'll get on the plane. But, sure. And thankyou for the gift."

"Sure thing. Adios, munchkin."

Before she could even roll her eyes, her brother had hung up. Rolling her eyes, and sliding her phone into her pocket: she could feel it buzzing with texts from her school friends, but not now. She would answer them later. A day with her grandmother, afternoon with her school friends, then dinner. And in five days, she would be ready to leave.

In all honesty, she was starting to get a little nervous.


"And you promise you will be safe, metuka?"

"Yes, Bubbie."

Her birthday had rather flown by, and she was leaving Russia with a case filled with new clothes, and enough stationery to open up a store in Gotham. Or at least, that's what she had joked. Her grandmother had tsked at the idea, reminded her that she had school to get through, and that the more, the merrier.

Zofia stood on the porch of the townhouse, hands resting in her grandmother's. Ada Zsasz was almost as tall as Zofia, too stubborn to let old age wrinkle her at all. Dark hair speckled with grey, and swept up into a bun: kind eyes fixed on her youngest grandchild. Zofia couldn't wait for her to move overseas: she had long since been widowed, and left vastly wealthy from the sale of her husband's businesses. Still, she was alone, and that had made Zofia reluctant to leave.

However, Ada had scolded her grandchild, reminded her that she wasn't an invalid, but would have to find somewhere truly luscious to live in the States if she ever were to leave her beloved Russia. Ada had rented Zofia townhouse in upstate Gotham, and had practically accepted the college offer for her.

Still, it hurt to leave. Zofia squeezed the elderly woman's hands again, and pecked her grandmother's cheek, only to be affectionately swatted away.

"Good luck, baby. I love you."

"I love you, too." Zofia hesitated a little, before handing her cases to the driver, and heading down the steps. Dressed in comfortable soft trousers, a shirt, and a grey coat tied around her shoulders: slightly heeled boots tapped against the marble steps. Sliding into the open car, and waving to her grandmother from the window.

The car purred into life, and they began to pull away from the house. Zofia waved until her grandmother was out of sight, letting out a sigh as she settled back in her seat. Fishing her phone from her pocket, and opening up the latest text.

Are you on your way, rugrat?

Yeah. I'll see you in eleven hours.

A glance to the top of her phone: it was seven thirty in the morning and she would land in Gotham around six that evening. Only it would be ten in the morning when she arrived- that was going to be bizarre, that was for certain.

Moving to Gotham, though? That was going to be a culture shock in itself. It had been a long, long time since she had even visited, but.. She was rather looking forward to it.

Although she was nervous, she was excited. What lay ahead of her? Zofia wasn't sure. But two hours later, as she watched Moscow fade away from the plane window? She was eager to face what lay ahead.